


Anger

by Donya



Series: Monsters are made [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, All sorts of abuse, Anger, Hurt/Comfort, Issues, M/M, Unsafe Sex, Wziuuum!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/Donya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frostiron au. Loki is bullied by everyone except for Tony. Finally he snaps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anger

**Author's Note:**

> It's a sequel to 'One day', I love when my dear readers suggest a sequel, thanks, guise. 
> 
> Dark and sad, I mean it.

Loki was sure he would never talk to Tony, not after the punishment he got that evening that he spent at his house. He regretted everything he did that day, including not finishing his meal, because at home he was sent to bed without supper. Lying on his bed, completely still because of all those bruises, Loki kept thinking about the pizza and hot chocolate Tony gave him. Loki didn't think he could share that kind of food with anyone and somehow Tony did it so naturally.

Loki avoided lots of people at school, all his bullies, but now also Tony. What if he actually asked what happened after Loki and his dad left? It was horrible but Loki suspected that Tony knew. Maybe he saw how Loki was slapped in the car. Maybe he took pity on him that day because he guessed what was happening. Tony wanted to feel like a hero, helping a pathetic victim. 

 

* * *

 

Loki cried when his mum was going to visit her parents. Loki cried and begged her to take him. He didn't want to stay the whole weekend with dad and Thor. It would end badly, he was sure of that. 

'You're such a mummy's boy, Loki, my goodness, grow up,' his father said mockingly, pulling him away from the car. 'You can't go.'

'Mummy, please.' 

It was pointless, as always. She drove away, leaving Loki behind.

 

It was after that weekend that Loki met Tony again, in hospital. Everyone was surprised that such a big boy as Loki cried the whole time. He was told he was brave and that it was nothing serious. He was so clumsy, breaking his arm again.

Tony came with Loki's mum, they brought him sweets and books. He didn't want anything, even their presence there. They could go away already, Loki was too sad to put up with someone like Tony. Always so annoyingly cheereful and talkative, so typical of him, not at all disheartened by Loki's long face, he told him about his new bicycle and the horror he watched when he was all alone. Loki tried to ask him to go away but he realised that maybe Tony was lonely, too. And he found someone who was too scared to push him away. Aren't we all alone?

 

* * *

 

Loki wasn't sure when it actually happened the first time. When he stopped being so pathetically apologetic, crying out, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' between the blows, when he started being angry and vengeful. One day he nodded at everything his dad said, 'I'm sorry, daddy, please, please,' painfully aware of how futile such begging was; the next day he was shaking with rage, his mind filled with frantic thoughts of how unfairly he was treated, he didn't deserve that, oh, he would show them, they would be so sorry for what they did but he wouldn't forgive them, never. At night, lying in the darkness, waiting for the sleep, he would create different scenarios of how he would take his revenge on his family. His favourite was Thor needing a kidney transplant and Loki saying no. Just it, one little no.

So he started being angry at his father and brother, plotting against them. Once he left some dish soap in Thor's mug, hoping that Thor would get sick. He didn't but the thrill was wonderful. 

Frustration, that was what he felt most of the time. If he could never be good enough to avoid punishment, if he did not deserve their love, he decided to be bad. Give them a real reason to hate him. At least he could have some fun. Shoplifting wasn't that difficult and the candies never been sweeter. Something told him he should have been afraid of the consequences, yet deep inside he literally could not bring himself to care about his life. What worse could have happened? He used to cry every night but now he rather felt empty, apathetic. He couldn't care less about his well-being, why would he, no one else did. 

And yet Tony was still around. After the initial awkwardness, Loki found out the never ending chatter about things he had no interest in, it actually cheered him up, in some crazy way. Somehow Tony managed to chase away Loki's dark thoughts for a while. Loki could eat a proper meal at Tony's, without fear of earning a slap for dropping a fork or leaving too much food on the plate. Also, Tony's father enjoyed whiskey, so the boys would steal some and regret it. At first, this is. When they stopped coughing and wiped their tears, they realised the whiskey nicely numbed their limbs and took away all the worries. Loki couldn't remember why he was sad, why he ever cared about his family. The sweet warmth within him relaxed him. There was nothing to be anxious about.

 

* * *

 

Loki was sixteen when he started leaving the house at night. Without any specific reason. He would walk and walk in the dark, hands in his pockets. He thought he wanted trouble. Maybe he was too numb, maybe he wanted to feel something. Excitement. Fear. Anything. He was tired of his life, he needed a change.

At first he thought he let that man touch him because that would infuriate his father. Slutty Loki being gay, oh, that'd be good. It was different than he expected, less romantic, that's for sure. He wasn't kissed or caressed, or told he was good or lovely. None of such things. He was thrown on the bed, hand on the back of his head, till he could barely breathe, burning pain between his legs. Loki fisted the sheets, trying not to scream. He wanted that, didn't he? It was exactly what he wanted. Someone to take interest in him, someone to care about him. That man needed something from Loki and he was willing to give it, despite the pain.

The man wasn't gentle and kept calling Loki a slut and a whore and you love being fucked by a big cock, don't you, you little filthy cockslut. But it wouldn't last long, right, Loki could take it, he survived worse things. He got used to pain. 

'You're too quiet,' he heard. 'Not good enough for you? How about now?'

Now Loki was thinking he brought it on himself because he craved being touched. Touched, held, stroked. It's one of the most basic needs. No matter how often he told himself he was perfectly happy all by himself, he did enjoy spending time with Tony. Now, however, Tony had a girlfriend and she was more important than Loki, obviously. Loki was never good enough, yet now there he was, sprawled on the bed, fucked into the mattress, someone wanted him. Thor was wrong, he said no one would ever even look at Loki. How about now? He was not only being looked at but also filled to the brim, pinned down, being used and desired. Thor should have seen that. 

Turned out, it was not about proving a point to Odin or Thor, nor was it about Loki's personal needs. He realised the man, how old was he anyway, 40? 50? The man was like his father. That's was the point. Loki attracted that kind of people. It was his fault and he could only blame himself. There was only a short moment when he actually tried struggling with the man, kicking and hitting, it didn't last long. Again, he was on his stomach, tied, the leather belt hitting his backside. Loki cried, he thought it would be different. He thought he deserved it to be different. What would happen at home? Most certainly, he'd be punished for being late, what if his father would see the bruises and welts? Loki didn't want to go to hospital again, lying and lying to everyone.

 

* * *

 

He did return to that man. He was beaten and fucked and humiliated, it wasn't pleasant but knowing he was wanted- oh, that was a wonderful feeling. He wasn't useless.

 

* * *

 

Loki didn't really plan it. It just happened. 

He was in his room, watching a tv series, something to distract him, Odin and Thor were at home, he was stressed out but it was rainy outside, he didn't want to go out. His father told him to fold the laundry. Loki said, 'In a minute.' It's not something super urgent, Loki wanted to finish the episode first. He didn't do that on purpose, he really was going to do what he was told but he waited too long.

Odin stormed into the room and turned off the tv. He was fuming, his face dark red. Loki knew he was screwed and almost started apologising. He moved back, bracing himself.

'Did you not hear me?!' Odin raised his voice. Not again, not again. 'You little lazy ungrateful idiot. All you do is take, take, money, food but when I ask you to do something in the house, you watch tv?!'

'It's just laundry! I'll do it now.'

'I think you need an encouragement.'

Odin hit him once or twice and then something snapped in Loki. That was the last straw. His instinct finally started working. He didn't think what he was doing, it just happened, as if his body didn't listen to his brain. In one moment he was shielding his head with his hands, seconds later he found himself hitting back. That's right. He raised his hand against his own father. Everything was so blurry, no time to think, he punched Odin over and over again, fueled by the old anger burning inside him. All those times when he was helpless, crying and hoping it would stop the blows but it never did. Now the tables turned and it was ecstatic. Loki didn't feel pain, he didn't feel anything. Odin was so shocked he didn't put up a fight. He was just staring at Loki in disbelief. Didn't expect that, did ya? How does it feel? Nice tough love.

Loki had no idea when he would stop, he was going to fold the fucking laundry, how the hell did he deserve that?

His mother. Loki didn't hear what she was saying, nor did he care but she grabbed his arm and he finally stopped, breathing hard. For a moment they just looked at each other, Odin still on the floor, as if he considered having a heart attack. Everyone struck by the sudden idea that things would never be the same, not after what Loki had done. 

He turned to his mother and pointed a finger at her.

'You!' There was no point in pretending he respected his parents, not any more. 'All these years looking the other way! You had to know what was going on and you didn't do anything to protect me!' He was shouting at the top his voice, louder than ever. 'You didn't save me! I counted on you!' Frigga reached out to him and Loki, completely out of his mind, slapped her hand away. The thrill of burning bridges. Doing something unforgivable, so there would be no return. He didn't want their forgiveness. 'I wish I was never born, you ruined my life, you have no idea what I did because of you.' Loki imagined telling them about his- about that man. How he was used, left sore and bleeding. 'I hate you!'

'Well, it's your right,' Frigga replied quietly. She seemed so calm or maybe she just did not care at all. 'But I _love_ you.'  

'My own son,' Odin lamented, still unmoving. 

'What the hell did you do this time?' Thor finally joined them. 

Loki glanced at them quickly, his family, now too shocked to attack him because Loki lost his mind and they seemed to pity him, oh dear, little Loki went nuts. He couldn't deal with them anymore. He ran away, leaving everything behind, his clothes, documents, money, he didn't even get his jacket or umbrella. Nothing matter anymore. He kept walking in the rain, in a vain hope it would calm him down. He was furious, like never before, hands clenched into fists, teeth gritting, adrenaline running through his veins. That unimaginable level of pure anger when it's even hard to move. Murderous thoughts poisoning his mind. There were people at the bus stop that he passed and he realised he was so infuriated he could, he would attack anyone that would cross his path. Nothing mattered anymore, why should he care about other people, why, no one ever cared about him.

The thing is abused children cannot lie. Even if they try, they always show in one way or the other what is really going on. All it takes to save them is to read those sings but, well, who would care enough to do so. We don't want trouble, calling the police, testifying in the court, it is easier to turn the blind eye on bruises and screaming, that's what children do, they fall down a lot and they get bruises and they scream because they are spoilt, is that not right? Loki knew how he tried to tell the truth. He was so bitter as a child, that was supposed to alarm people around him, hey, why is this kid so glum, why doesn't he smile, why is he crying all the time? Why does he stiffen at the sheer mention of his father? 

He was angry at the whole world and it wasn't as illogical as it seemed. The world let him down, he was abandoned and broken, no one heard his cry for help. He knew what people would say: such an ungrateful boy, dear Lord, attacking his own family, didn't they give him everything he needed? Who changed his diapers and paid for his medicines and education? This generation, they can only take and demand more.

It was actually good that he had no money because he could get a gun and avenge that scared little child that no one paid attention to. So typical of wounded creatures like him. Making a bloody scene, a statement, look what you did to me, it's your fault, it's the society's fault, now you have to see me and hear me out because I'm holding a gun. You forced me to do it, I'm not a bad person, I'm just desperate. He would give his neighbours and teachers a reason to be on tv, he was always so quiet and withdrawn, who would have thought, he's from a good family, he was surely a fan of Marilyn Manson or played violent computer games, youngsters these days.

There was so much pent up anger in him and no way out. The wildest thoughts. Killing his family, _father, I want to kill you,_ killing a stranger or himself. He was on fire.

The point was that lashing out on his family gave him no satisfaction. It didn't make him feel better, awfully pointless. The thrill was gone. Loki realised he didn't want to hurt them. It wasn't as good as he imagined. He hated being that angry and violent, focused on his mental wounds. He didn't want them to apologise to him, he just wished there would be no reason for apologies. He dreamt of a happy childhood, caring father, protective brother, was it too much to ask? He abhorred people like his father but he was becoming him. He would treat his own children the same way. Stubborn two-year-olds testing limits, how long would it last before he would hit them? Loki couldn't choose between right and wrong, Odin and Thor made that choice for him. They ruined him.

He hated those hot tears on his cheek, he didn't want to cry, it was over, his being a victim, over and never more. Monsters are made, those quiet, calm children pushed around, one day they become bullies, fierce and ruthless.

 

* * *

 

'Loki, is that you?'

He didn't know the answer, he lost himself. 

'Loki!'

Too late to run away. Tony came up to him, hiding Loki under his black umbrella. With one hand, he took off his coat and put on Loki's shoulders. Fresh tears. He imagined crying in Tony's arms, he wanted all those negative emotions to disappear. 

He let Tony lead the way. His house was empty, good, explaining anything to his parents would be problematic, to say the least. Loki looked like hell. He accepted a large glass of whiskey and a big fluffy towel. Tony was worried, glancing at him uneasily. But he knew. He must have seen Loki's bruises, how difficult it was to guess where they came from? No point in pretending now.

'You know I was- I am abused at home.'

Tony's cheeks crimson with shame. 

'Oh God, Loki, I was a kid, too. I was afraid, what was I supposed to do? You never complained, I couldn't just offend your father.'

A moment of silence. Loki knew Tony was right and he couldn't be blamed. He at least tried making Loki's life less miserable.

'Why didn't you seek help?'

That was a good question. The thing is, when the abuse starts that early, one gets used to it. It's a part of everyday life. A child accepts it and doesn't ask questions. Daddy knows best, right? Daddy is older and wiser, daddy knows how to deal with a naught child.

'I hit my father.' There, Loki said that. Now Tony would kick him out. What an outrage, being aggressive towards a parent, have you no shame?

'You'll say you're sorry, he'll forgive you. You're overwhelmed with emotions, you couldn't control yourself. Tomorrow you will apologise and-'

'No, no, no, it's over, I can't deal with them anymore.'  

'You'll still have me. I can help you. Together we-'

Oh God. Loki covered his face with his hands, too late to stop sobbing. _Together_. Oh God.  

'You still have me. Now it's a rainy day but it will pass. And I'll never stop being your friend.'

Loki felt strong arms around him and he just let it happen.

 

* * *

 

He woke up at dawn, Tony was snoring. It was still dark outside, another grey day, no point in doing anything.

It was too good. Tony would never accept Loki as he was, not now when they stopped lying to each other. Tony was being nice only to feel better about himself, everyone wants to play a hero. Loki didn't need his pity, he was miserable enough without someone looking at him like he was damaged goods. 

People like Loki have no right to blame their parents for their wrong choices. People like Loki are expected to forget, forgive and move on. Victims blaming their tormentors for the aftermath of the abuse do it just to avoid responsibilities for their own actions, such an easy way to get away with basically everything, right? Never mind Loki's psyche was ruined, crushed by his family, all his issues, no trust, no commitment, fear, masochism, it was all their fault. He was unfixable, broken beyond repair. There was no hope. 

He emptied Tony's wallet, took his jacket and left.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In honour of the very first negative comment I have received here. Ah, the sweet smell of the non-constructive criticism. 
> 
> My eternal inspiration: Jim Morrison.
> 
> No to popłynęłam z tym fikiem.


End file.
